


Grey

by Delphi



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Drama, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Outsider, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-16
Updated: 2004-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry sees something he wishes he didn't. Set during <i>Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swiftpaws](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Swiftpaws).



Grey.

Harry is on his back in bed, and the ceiling is grey, and the curtains are grey, the ghost-grey of the middle of the night, and everyone's asleep, but Harry's awake, hands under the blankets, jerking off so hard it hurts.

But not enough.

On his back. In his bed. But with his eyes wide open, he's in the corridor at the base of Gryffindor Tower, midnight stones under his feet and his cloak around him, and he hears the sound—

"Ah!"

—stopping him in his tracks.

He'd thought: Quirrel. Before he knew why, because all he could see was Snape in the alcove, leaning over someone, whispering to—

kissing

—Professor Dumbledore. Grey in the pale moonlight, grey-bearded, grey-eyed, old grey hands clutching Snape's arms and not pushing...

...disappearing into the charcoal grey of Snape's robes.

Harry bites his lip, rocking into his fist. He doesn't want to come from this, can't make himself, can't stop himself when he remembers the way their bodies moved. Two men in the corridor, greasy hair, spectacles, robes between them, but the way their bodies pressed together...rubbing.

Soft, wet kissing sounds.

Dumbledore's voice was grey like smoke, hot and drifting, too faint to be heard, and Snape's glinted. Silver, steel, the edge of a knife:

"Albus, I..."

And sharper.

"Yesss..."

His heart pounding, how he'd wanted to be caught—he'd wanted to catch them, wanted to see them leap apart, scalded, shameful, guilty. To know that it was wrong, oh so wrong.

He remembers:

"Darling."

But not who said it.

Grey, he thinks. As if it makes a difference, stroking harder and harder towards something that he can't bear to want, and he knows his cock should be red and sore, but it isn't. It's grey under the covers, in the dark, in his hand.

And tears come to Harry's eyes when he shuts them tight, seeing stars. The only black and white he knows anymore.


End file.
